


The Scorpion and the Frog

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe-Dark, Cheating, Coming Out, Dark Castiel, Death Sentence, Doctor Castiel, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fatal Attraction, Gore, Homophobia, Hybristophilia, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Journalist Dean, Love Letters, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Castiel, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Obsession, Physical Abuse, Protective Castiel, Secrets, Shy Dean, Slow Burn, Stalker, Teasing, Torment, Torture, Trauma, Violence, naive dean, pinning, psychological abuse, serial killer cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester's life is going nowhere. He hasn't written a good story in months, his wife is distant from him and his career is in the shitter. So when Chuck Shurley offers him a story with as much thrill and chills as one could muster, he takes it and runs. Agreeing to meet with Dr. Castiel Krushnik. A former forensic psychologist, turned murderer. Castiel is one month from Execution. Is he really going to give Dean the story he desperately needs? Or will he take his secrets with him to the grave?</p><p>A shadow watches Dean's interactions with Castiel from afar. With rage and jealousy. It won't be long until they strikes. Claim their first victim and attempt to appease and impress the prisoner they long for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am the original author of this story. However I orphaned it on my old account and ended up forgetting the password to that account. This is my new one and I WILL be continuing the story from here, as I've got new chapters written. Please enjoy.

“Black, black is love’s potion

We drink, we drink from its wells

_And in their name, let’s drink to true love_

_For a toad and a scorpion fell_

_Yes, in their name, let’s drink to true love_

_For true love can break the spell (for true love can break the spell)”_

_-’Prick goes the Scorpion’s Tale’ Emilie Autumn_

 

Dean rubbed his hand down his face and sighed, slumping further down into his seat. The word document was open in front of him, but not a single thing typed. It’d been ages since he had anything close to a good story written and his boss was getting a bit edgy. He had to come up with something good, something that would get him on Bobby Singer’s good side again...Either that or pack his things and find another newspaper to write for. Great. His wife would surely love that one.

 

“Hey Dean. How we doin’ today?” Dean jumped slightly, startled that someone crept up behind him. He turned to see Chuck Shurley, a scraggly, shifty eyed writer who drank too much coffee and was always jittery from caffeine rush. Dean tried his best to smile at the other man, but was bristled by the fact he’d been snuck up on.

 

“Alright. How are you?” Chuck rolled his eyes and took the question as initiative to sit down in the plastic chair by Dean’s desk.

 

“I actually had something I wanted to ask you...If you don’t want to help me out that’s fine but I’d really rather not do this one,” Dean perked up, Chuck was going to trade stories with him? It wasn’t unheard of in the small newspaper, but Chuck Shurley never switched stories with anyone. His face flushed slightly and his ears tinged red. “I-Its only if you want to do it.” Dean turned his body to Chuck, resting his elbow on the edge of his desk, computer and document forgotten.

 

“What’s up Chuck?”

 

“I was supposed to do an in depth article about Dr. Castiel Krushnik. You know he’s on death row and he’s due for execution in a month. The thing is, he, he makes me nervous being a doctor and all, and I know you’re better at staying on point than I am when it comes to interviews...So I was wondering if you’d wanna trade.” Dean’s mouth had fallen open in a silent ‘o’ expression. Dr. Castiel ‘The Scorpion’ Krushnik. A brilliant forensic psychologist turned murderer. He killed three men, all former lovers of his, skinned them and made furniture out of their bones. What he didn’t use was ground up and thrown into different wooded areas, hoping wildlife would eat it. A simple mistake was the only reason he was caught, something so trivial you would have thought he’d have the common sense not to carry with him. Dean felt a sense of hope rush through him. This could be the big story that saved his job. He smiled kindly at Chuck, hoping his eagerness didn’t bleed through.

 

“Sure Chuck. Yeah….Um when was the interview,” Dean took out his pen and pad, ready to scribble down the necessary things he needed to know. Chuck looked relieved and let out a soft sigh, leaning forward.

 

“The first meeting is today at One-Thirty. Lawrence County Penitentiary. They’ll be expecting you, just tell them your name and go from there,” he pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. “These are the questions I planned on asking him. You don’t have ask him everyone, this is just something to jog your mind and get you started….I really appreciate this Dean.” Dean pulled out his phone to text his wife, Lisa, that he wouldn’t be able to do lunch, big story he had to get working on. She texted back with a thumbs up. Dean grinned at Chuck and looked at the clock; 12:15.

 

“No thank you Chuck. I got a good feeling about this. I owe you one.” Dean stood up from his desk, chair squeaking across the floor abruptly as he grabbed his leather jacket. The office was bustling with chat and ringing phones, but Dean was focused, excited, his career wasn’t going to end so soon after all.

 

“Winchester! Where ya goin’!” Bobby stood in the doorway of his office, arms thrown up and an exasperated look on his face, Dean only turned halfway towards him, his feet still carrying him to the door.

 

“Got a story Bobby!Be back in a bit!” he pushed out of the door without another word.

 

-1-

 

“I don’t want any funny business you hear. As far as what goes on in here you keep your mouth shut. All that reporter needs is another story to make him keep coming back after you’re dead and gone. You stick to the basics and tell them only about yourself and your crimes. You do that or you get the hose again Krushnik. Got it?” Crowley snarled through the bars, into Castiel’s cell. Castiel was lying on his back reading Aesop’s fables. Specifically the one about himself, The Scorpion and the Frog. Warden Crowley’s words went in one ear and right out the other. “Are you listening to me!” Crowley slammed his baton against the bars. Castiel raised his eyes, a bored expression on his face.

 

“Your threats are so tedious….I’m going to be gassed Crowley. Do you really believe I’m afraid of a hose?” Crowley's eyes narrowed, his face turning red. Castiel smiled tauntingly. One of the many ways he amused himself in his cell was to taunt the Warden. He was not allowed out into general population, nor was he allowed to go outside. All he had was his amusements.

 

“You’ll be gassed...If I don’t beat the living-”

 

“Sir!” a young guard came running down the way towards the warden and the prisoner, his feet slapping against the hard cold pavement. Crowley shot Castiel a disgusted look and turned to the guard.

 

“What is it Fitzgerald? I’m policing our reluctant inmate on proper behavior when we have guests.” Castiel rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his book. If he was on the other side of the cell and Crowley was in the cell, he would tell him all about himself. How Crowley suffered from narcissism and could stand to be tested for sociopathic tendencies. But alas, it was he, who was in the cell. He who was the prisoner. Not Crowley.

 

“That reporter is here for him. He’s waiting in the visiting room.” Crowley wet his fat lips and pulled out a handkerchief, patting it over his forehead. Garth, a skinny guard, with mousy brown hair and a round nose looked pointedly at Crowley. Castiel scared him, as well he should, and he tried to stay as far away from him as he could. “Visiting hours start in ten minutes.”

 

“Thank you Fitzgerald, keep him preoccupied while I round up this trash,” Castiel’s eyes narrowed, but stayed focused on the book. Surely he didn’t deserve that type remark. He was an educated doctor, with more credentials than Crowley had women. He filed the remark away in the back of his mind, keeping it there for the day when he would bash in Mr. Crowley’s brains, with the utmost pleasure of course.

 

Crowley turned back to Castiel, a sneer on his lips and a glint in his eye. He whistled, calling his favorite guard, Alistair. Alistair was known for his cruel and petty torments, and was another one on Castiel’s list. He would get them, in this life or the next. Alistair appeared next to Crowley, an uneasy smirk on his face.

 

“Bring this filth down to the visiting room…..Make sure he heard what I said as well,” Crowley took out a twenty and placed it in Alistair pocket before walking away. Alistair kept his hand on his baton and opened the sliding bars slowly.

 

“Do I get to be the dominant one this time? Or am I always going to have to bend over for you?” Alistair made a disgusted noise and Castiel felt a jab of joy. He loved provoking the guards. Especially on days when he knew they couldn’t do any physical harm to him. Those days he relished in the teasing torments he inflicted on them. Alistair was a very well known homophobic and Castiel loved to make his skin crawl.

  
“Shut your mouth and stand up, face the wall and put your hands behind your back.” castiel did as he was told, jutting his hips out teasingly. Alistair yanked at his hands, securing the cuffs to him tightly. Castiel hissed and gritted his teeth, the cool metal biting into his wrists. “Play nice out here today Krushnik. Or you’ll get worse than the hose I promise.”

-0-0-

"Dr. Krushnik never gets visitors, you're from the local paper?" A young officer led Dean into a small rectangular room surrounded by glass windows and grey bricks. The officer motioned for Dean to sit at one of the metal tables and his chair groaned as he slid back across the floor.

 

"Yes. Lawrence Local. We want to do a story on our most notorious criminal...he brought a lot of attention to our little town." It brought in a ton of media, people came from all over to watch the trial, Dean had actually been a little put off by it all. Men and women screaming and throwing themselves at the murderer's feet. All vying for his attention, families sobbing. It was intense. Garth nodded, brown eyes watching Dean carefully, probably trying to make sure he didn’t still have any weapons on him. Dean raised his arms, “I’m not armed,” Garth shook his head, chuckling nervously.

 

“Sorry...It’s a habit. Oh! I was supposed to tell you,” he pulled the chair out across from Dean and sat down, leaning forward. “This is important so pay attention,” the hair on the back of Dean’s neck prickled, nerves sending trembles down his spine. “When he comes in here, Dr. Krushnik I mean, don’t lean towards him, don’t take his bait, if he tries to ruffle your feathers stay calm.”

 

“W-Why? They said he’d be chained to the table-”

 

“A reporter for the New York Times came here a while back to do an interview...The whole time Dr. Krushnik kept saying how good the man smelled and asked him to move closer so Dr. Krushnik could identify the scent. When the reporter got closer Dr. Krushnik lunged and bit the man’s nose off, spitting it back at him. It was a bloody scene, I just started here when it happened. I was terrified.” Dean felt the blood drain from his face and his palms sweat nervously. He nodded, making a mental note to be extremely careful around the man. “Just be careful,” Garth added. Dean was about to remark when a buzzer went off, the heavy metal door that locked them in the visiting room slid open and three armed guards walked in, escorting a shackled prisoner in an orange jumpsuit behind them.

 

Dean had seen pictures of Dr. Castiel Krushnik, black and white photographs in the newspaper, blotchy pixels on the internet. Pictures did the man little justice, Dean sucked in a sharp breath. Eyes trailing over the man, taking him in, correcting every error the newspapers did him wrong.

 

The man had thick black hair, jutting out over his head, making him look as though he just woke up. He was not as pale as the pictures made him look, his skin was tanner and his body toned, muscular, even though he never left his cell. A small tattoo on the inside of his left wrist in words Dean could not decipher. The guards led him to the table and cuffed him to the leg, both hands. Dr. Krushnik sighed, annoyed and smiled up at Dean, brilliant blue eyes glinting and lips curled up and pulled back over his teeth. Dean had never seen eyes like that.

 

“Have you been waiting long?” Dr. Krushnik’s words were kind, something darker layered beneath them, his voice was deep and had a low rumble. Dean felt small under his gaze, he cleared his throat, pulling out his pad and paper.

 

“No, No I haven’t Dr. Krushnik.”

 

“Castiel, please,” his smile never faltered, his eyes turning from curiosity to amusement. “I must say, they never send me the pretty ones,” he winked at Dean, not at all subtle with his flirting. Dean felt his ears heat up, uncomfortable with the turn in conversation, he twisted the wedding ring on his left hand with the pad of his thumb. Castiel’s blue eyes flickered from it and back to Dean’s face, disappointment moved over his features, momentarily. “I see...well she is a very lucky lady to land a handsome man like you,” Dean smiled shyly, shifting in his seat.

 

“Thank you Castiel..My name is Dean Winchester…..I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

 

“That is why you’re here isn’t it,” he didn’t say it with rude intention, but the comment came off as snarky and playful. Dean fumbled for the paper Chuck had given him, feeling stupid for allowing Castiel to get under his skin so easily and so quickly. He set up the tape recorder he carried with him whenever he did interviews.

 

“‘I um, I wanted to ask first and foremost, how you feel about the justice system? Do you feel as though they failed you?”

 

“No, no I’m getting what I deserve….I’m not a psychopath, I’m not crazy...I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew I was hurting them. I just didn’t care,” Castiel chuckled. “Am I where I should be? Yes. Did they fail? No. Did I think I was smarter than them? Perhaps. Who’s to say really.”

 

“Are you ready to die?” Dean didn’t mean to ask that. It just came out. The calm and easily detached way castiel spoke of his crimes was unsettling. He had no remorse, he felt no guilt. His eyes were dead when he spoke of them, like they were trash that needed to be taken out. Castiel pursed his lips in thought, thin muscles pulling back, his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

 

“I don’t believe in death Mr. Winchester. I believe in transcendence. Transformation….So my body will be destroyed, it’s just a vessel. My soul will live forever. I will never really be dead.” it was an interesting sentiment. Dean had never heard someone speak so calmly and fearlessly about death.

 

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

 

“I’ve had more than enough time.” they chuckled, Dean jotted down a note to see his family. Try and interview them, get more on his background.

 

“You were a celebrated Forensic Psychologist. An award winner for your articles and one of the most respected men in the country. What made you decide to turn to the other side of the law?” Castiel was tapping his foot against the floor, the tap, tap, tap, echoing off the walls and all around them. Dean felt a slight headache emerging. Castiel clenched his jaw, his eyes darkened.

 

“Someone like you, i don’t believe would understand….I think I’m right in assuming you’ve never been cheated on, women and men alike have swooned over you, you have always been desirable to your wife..you don’t know what it’s like to be _hurt_...To be so filled with rage you have one or two options. Kill or be killed. I could not let them leave me. I’d rather see them dead than with another...and I feel, they’re better off.” Castiel’s voice was lower, almost a grovel, and powerful. His eyes flashed dangerously. Dean was lost in them for a moment, forgetting the time and himself. He blinked, shaking his head and coming back to himself. “And….If I’m being completely honest...I wanted to know what it felt like. I wanted to taste that power….And I liked it.”

 

“So why skin them? Why build from their bones?”

 

“I’m not one for waste Mr. Winchester.” Castiel chuckled and shook his head, “It felt like the common sense thing to do...I quite enjoyed it.” he sighed. “Taking a human life, it’s not an easy thing to do. You feel pangs of fear, of guilt, exhilaration. Building from them, creating new things. It made me feel better about what I was doing.”

 

“If you had a chance to do it over again, to change things, would you?”

 

“No.” he shook his head, “No I wouldn’t. I’d do it all again, and I’d shiver at the pleasure it gave me.”

 

“You’re one cold bastard aren’t you?” Castiel barked out a laugh, tossing his head back and, sliding down against his seat.

 

“You have no idea Mr. Winchester. No idea….” it grew quiet again, except for the rumble of Castiel's laughter. tension building between them, Dean looked away from Castiel intimidated, the other man was smaller than him, but more dangerous. Way more dangerous.

 

“Do you...do you do anything here? What’s it like being in here? Do you miss your freedom?” Dean spoke quickly, his words running together. He felt as though he’d been put on the spot, as though he were the one answering the questions. Castiel remained cool and calm. As though they were discussing baseball and not murder. He watched Dean’s nervous habits with fascination.

 

“Of course I miss the trees, the sun on my face and the wind on my back...It’s something that I feel I took for granted whilst out there in the world. But I do have my books to keep me preoccupied. I read a lot and I write, really in all honesty, I’m biding my time before the gas chamber...it’s only a month away ya know.” Dean nodded, it was a much anticipated event in the small town. Almost everyone would be gathered outside the prison, waiting for the words ‘he’s dead’, after which they would celebrate and toast the fact that he was gone. “The fan mails I get help, I like to smell them and think about the people who sent them...But even that can become a very tedious thing.”

 

“fanmail?”

 

“Ooh yes. Those who admired my work and wish for me to be set free...I’ve gotten several marriage proposals and was even asked to artificially inseminate one woman...The warden said no of course.” he smirked playfully at Dean.

 

“You’re really proud of yourself aren’t you?” Dean’s tone was clipped, slightly angry at the man for boasting.

 

“I’m proud of all my accomplishments….Notoriety is just another trophy.” Dean didn’t know what to say...Castiel’s gaze was unnerving, his pupils round and small, the blue of his eyes almost glowing as he stared Dean down, refusing to break his gaze. “Do you have more to cover? Or is that all for today? I feel as though you weren’t prepared for this. Perhaps I could give you some time to collect yourself and your thoughts. You could come back and we could try this again.” Dean was relieved when a guard came up to apprehend the killer in front of him. Uncuffing him from the table and pulling him to his feet. Dean turned off his tape recorder and shoved it into his pocket, folding the paper in his hands.

 

“I’d like to interview your family and talk to them...Would that be alright with you?”

 

“I don’t know if they’d be willing to speak on my behalf, we're not exactly close...But you may give it a go if you’d like. I cannot really stop you.” Dean nodded, moving away from his chair and standing. Castiel was a few inches shorter than him and looked up at the blonde, amusement in his eyes once more. “You have very pretty eyes Mr. Winchester. Beautiful green, like a forest….Has anyone ever told you?” Dean blushed, shaking his head. Stupid. This guy is a serial killer. He’s trying to make you uncomfortable. Don’t let him.

 

“No, no they haven’t. Thank you.” Castiel winked, a guard hooked his hand under the crook of Castiel’s elbow and tugged him along, towards the door.

 

“Well now you have...I hope to see you again soon Mr. Winchester….Preferably before my death,” the guards carried him out the door before Dean could say another word.

 

-1-

 

Lisa was on the phone when Dean finally made it home. He had gone back to work to start going through the interview, deciding what he did and didn’t want to put in the article. He wanted it to be as in depth as possible and he still had a lot of work to do. Lisa gave Dean a small smile when he entered the living room, motioning for him to sit down, she’d be done in a minute.

 

“Okay...alright...Yes I’ll see you tomorrow. You too. Bye,” Dean didn’t miss the flush in her cheeks or the glint in her eye as she got off the phone. She turned to him and crossed her arms. “Where were you? You didn't call or text me. You’re dinner’s in the microwave, you’ll have to heat it up.” she looked at him angrily, long past feeling hurt, it was always an argument when he came home from work late.

 

“I was working on an article I’m doing that could be my big break Lisa...I had to go through some of the information I’ve gathered.” she scoffed.

 

“And once again work is more important to you than me.” Dean stood and moved to her, touching her shoulders gently. She flinched, but allowed him to pull her into his arms. His hands trailed over her back and he kissed her hair.

 

“You know that’s not true. You know you mean more to me than anything else in the world Lisa...But I have to work to keep this roof over our heads. You know I love you.” Lisa dug her fingers into his shirt, twisting the fabric in her fingers.

 

“I love you too Dean...But I can’t keep doing this.” she pulled away from his arms, tears in her eyes, Dean felt the urge to swoop her into his arms and show her just how much she meant to him. He resisted. “You’re going to have to make a choice here. Me or work. I’m not going to stick around to be second best forever.” she pulled out of his arms and left him in the living room. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

 

“How the hell am I supposed to choose between work and you Lisa? It’s not that simple.” her phone went off, buzzing on the end table. Dean knew he shouldn’t look, but he leaned over, peering down at the glowing screen.

 

 _I_ _love you baby. See you tomorrow.-Adam_

 

Dean’s heart sank and pain pierced his heart. He thought there may have been something going on, but he never...He never really thought she would cheat on him. Dr. Krushnik’s words came back to him. And he knew, he knew exactly what he meant when he said them.

 

“ _you don’t know what it’s like to be hurt...To be so filled with rage you have one or two options. Kill or be killed. I could not let them leave me. I’d rather see them dead than with another...and I feel, they’re better off.”_

 

The words rang in Dean’s ears as he went into the kitchen, deciding to allow himself time to calm down before he confronted her. Unlike Dr. Krushnik, he knew murder was not the answer to a broken heart.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The pad and pen was thrown through the metal bars and landed on the concrete with a soft thud. Castiel lifted his arm, only slightly, to peer down at the items curiously. Crowley leaned against the bars, arms crossed, a teasing sneer on his face.

 

“When you’re a good dog you get rewarded. Very good job today with that reporter.” Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes. He was not in the mood for Crowley’s goading and was on a very thin line between losing his temper and staying calm. “But I do wonder….what exactly made you want to talk about the things you did now? Is it because you’re about to die? This is your last month of life and you want to leave this world with a clean conscious.” Castiel chuckled at that. The sound low and bouncing off the walls of his grey cell. He lifted his arm once more to smile tauntingly at Crowley. Crowley straightened, eyes narrowed and lips pulled back in a vicious sneer. “What’s so funny?”

 

“The fact that you think I have a conscious….That is quite funny indeed.” Crowley made a disgusted noise and pointed to the pad and paper.

 

“You fuck up again and it’s gone for good.”

 

“Whatever you say,” Crowley muttered under his breath, turning from Castiel and leaving him alone. When castiel could no longer hear his retreating footsteps he scrambled off the bed and onto the floor, picking up the pen and paper and bringing it to his bed. He scribbled on the inside cover of the notepad, to make sure the pen worked and began writing, quickly, before lights out.

 

-1-

 

Dean had slept on the couch. He feared if he slept next to Lisa he would smother her with a pillow, take every breath of life from her and let her feel the pain he was in. So it was better to just stay away. He sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other, waiting for her to come downstairs.

 

“Hey baby you didn’t come to bed last...night…” Lisa bounded into the kitchen, a beautiful smile on her face and bright brown eyes glowing. Until she saw Dean. Her sentence trailed off, she approached the table slowly, careful to not get too close to Dean. His body language gave everything away. He was angry. And he was angry with her. “Dean what-”

 

“Who’s Adam?” the confirmation was immediate. The blood drained from her face, she downcast her eyes, looking away from him in guilt. The question hung in the air between them, the silence stretched, but Dean would not leave this unsettled.

 

“Adam is a friend-”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Dean I can explain!” Dean scoffed, dropping the bagel and pushing back from the table, he stood and glared at Lisa, who backed up, timidly. She looked at him with begging, pleading eyes. “Dean let me explain. It’s not-I never meant-”

 

“You know it all makes sense now though,” Dean spat bitterly. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it down as best he could. His heart was breaking but he wouldn’t cry in front of her. She didn’t deserve to see him cry, nor did she deserve his sympathy, “The phone calls at random hours, never letting me use your phone when I didn’t have mine. Going out every weekend with your ‘girls’ instead of spending time with me. And yet, you made me feel like it was me! Like I was the one messing up everything when it was you!” Dean’s voice rose a few octaves. His face was hot and he was sure it was red, his fists clenched and unclenched. Lisa’s eyes were filled with tears, they spilled out and fell down her rosy cheeks. Dean didn’t pity her. She brought this on herself. Lisa took a shaky breath, lifting her jaw, and staring at him evenly.

 

“You didn’t want me anymore Dean. You spent all your time at the office. I only saw you for an hour or so a night. You never wanted to have sex. I have needs too Dean! I need love and attention too-”

 

“I tried to give you everything you asked for! I tried to give you the world Lisa! You forced me into working longer because you didn’t want to get a job yourself and you have a flair for shopping and spending money! Do you know how much debt we’re actually in because you can’t control your spending habits!?” Lisa opened her mouth to counter, but snapped it shut again, “A shit ton baby. More than you can imagine. I worked hard because I wanted you to have the lavish life you always wanted. God forbid I come home too exhausted to move and when I wanted you, really wanted you, you were out fucking around with whoever!” Lisa let out a pitiful sob, her bottom lip quivering, snot running out of her nose, even then Dean thought she was beautiful, but she was a snake. He felt his heart hardening towards her. “You took and took and took until I had nothing but myself to give. But that just isn’t enough is it? I won’t ever be enough.” Dean pushed past her, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it over his shoulders. Lisa followed after him, keeping her distance, but staying on him.

 

“Where are you going?” she asked quietly. “Dean we can fix this. Please-”

 

“I’m going to work. Something you know nothing about.” he opened the door, but stopped before exiting, turning to her, “I want a divorce. I’ll be staying with my brother until I can get my own place. You can stay here.” he shut the door before she could protest.

 

Dean fought with himself the whole way to work. On one hand he wanted to turn around and give Lisa a piece of his mind. Really snap on her and let her have it. Seven years of marriage and ten years together, she decided to do this. He couldn’t handle it. It hurt and it made him angry. One he got to work he shut the car off and whipped out his phone, pressing speed dial 2. Lisa was 1 but he’d change that later. Right now he needed to hear his brother, hear Sam’s voice to keep himself grounded.

 

Sam answered his phone on the second ring. Dean heard him clear his throat before speaking, “Hello?”

 

“Hey Sammy. It’s Dean.”

 

“hey Dean. How are you?” Dean felt himself relax as his brother’s tone turned cheerful. They were close, best friends really. As corny as it sounded, Dean and Sam had no secrets. They shared their fears, their hopes, their hurts with each other. Nothing was out of bounds. Dean sat in his car outside of his job. He needed to vent and collect himself before going in.

 

“Me and Lisa are getting divorced.” Dean let it rush out in one breath. It was quiet, nothing but the sound of Sam’s even breathing on the other end of the line. Dean’s heart started to sink, thinking maybe Sam wouldn’t want him to come stay.

 

“You need to stay here?” relief flooded Dean. Of course Sam would help him. They were brothers. He smiled into the phone, nodding, even though Sam couldn’t see him.

 

“Yeah..Only if it’s okay with you and Jess. I don’t want to impose.”

 

“You won’t. Jess loves you Dean. It’s no problem. Do you need help with your stuff? We got space in the garage until you get your own apartment.”

 

“Yeah. I’ll come by after work and we can talk more then. I’m already late as it is….Thank you Sammy,” Sam chuckled, the sound light and amused in Dean’s ear.

 

“Okay. Bye Dean.”

 

“Bye.” Dean shoved his phone in his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. At least he had a place to sleep. he got out of his car and walked towards the large brick building, leaving his home life and personal problems in the car behind him. This was work and home didn’t belong there.

 

-1-

 

Castiel was led into a large room lined with little booths and phones. Benny, his old friend and only ex to escape his wrath, came to visit him as often as he could. Castiel had been more than a little happy to know he’d have two visitors in two days. How nice it was that people outside still thought of him. He sat down in one of the booths, picking up the telephone and pressing it to his ear. Benny sat on the other side, grinning at Castiel, a look of longing in his eyes. Castiel couldn’t help but smile back.

 

When Castiel got caught and was arrested, it was Benny who stayed by his side. Benny who got him the lawyer. Benny who let him break down and cry into his shoulder when he was sentenced to death. After everything Castiel had done, all the pain and suffering he caused. It was Benny who stood loyally by his side. Even if they hadn’t been intimate for years. Benny loved Castiel deeply and the feeling was reciprocated.

 

“Cassy...Damn you look good for someone who never sees the light of day. How you been baby?” Castiel shivered, Benny’s accent had always made him weak in the knees. It was thick and southern and drawled on every word. He reached out and pressed his hand against the cool glass that separated them. Benny reached up and pressed his palm against the glass as well, fingers longer and thicker than Castiel’s nimble ones.

 

“Thank you for coming to see me.” Castiel sighed. “Your visits are the highlight of my time here.”

 

“Well you got some fans that want to see you, visit with you. I bumped into one while I was out there. Said they wanted to see you after I did. But that’s entirely up to you.” Benny’s eyes were teasing. He knew how Castiel felt about fans. Letters were fine, but visits were too personal. Visits were them getting too damn close.

 

“Have you thought about what we talked about last time?” Castiel didn’t like meaningless conversations. He had always been one to get right to the point. Benny rubbed his temples and shook his head, eyes never leaving Castiel’s.

 

“I’ve thought about it..Cassy you’re crazy-”

 

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be in here.”

 

“If we get caught. If it goes wrong in any way-”

 

“Am I not worth the risk?” Benny bit his lip, unable to answer, “Do you really wanna watch me walk into that gas chamber after everything we’ve been through.” the pain on Benny’s face gave Castiel his answer. No. Benny didn’t want him dead. And Benny was the only one who knew how scared Castiel really was. Castiel took a shaky breath, tears burning behind his eyes as he conveyed his true fears to his best friend. “Benny I don’t want to die.” Benny blinked, a tear sliding down his stubbled cheek as he cleared his throat and nodded, Cas felt a smug sense of pride slide down his spine. Benny would always give in. That was how much Castiel meant to him. Even when he was wrong, Benny defended him.

 

“Cassy I don’t want you to die either. If I could trade places with you I would…” his voice trailed off, the two of them speaking more with their eyes than with their words. “Alright Cassy. Let me see what I can do.” Cas leaned forward and kissed the glass where Benny’s palm was still open. He smiled gratefully.

 

“Thank you Benny. I owe you.”

 

“Hell yeah you do.”

 

-1-

 

The man that went in to see Castiel first came out with a smile on his face. He tipped his hat to me and winked at the receptionist I had just been talking to. I went back up, hope in my eyes and in my heart.

 

“Can I see him now?” she looked at me over the top of her wire rimmed glasses, judging my appearance. I hate that. I’m always second guessed….Just like he was. She flipped through some papers, smacking her lips and popping the pink chewing gum in her mouth.

 

“No...You’re not on the list and Castiel has specifically stated he doesn’t want to visit with fans.”

 

“But I’m not a fan I-”

 

“That’s what they all say.” she smiled at me, her fuschia lipstick smudged a little on top of her lip. I grimaced as she waved her acrylic nails at me in dismissal. She’d be my first victim.

 

Thirty six letters and nothing but silence, I’d have to get his attention another way….I went home to go back through the evidence I’d gathered, if I was going to get his attention I’d have to be just like him.

 

-1-

 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fire you right now.” Bobby was angry. This wasn't the first time Dean came to work late. But Dean didn’t want to deal with this today. He just wanted to go to his desk and be devoured by work. As long as he was working the pain would stay away. He didn’t want to think about Lisa. He wanted to work.

 

“I’m on the heels of a really, really good story Bobby. If you fire me I’ll find another paper that will let me write it.” Bobby bit his lip, coming around his desk to lean back against it in front of Dean, curiosity glinting in his eyes.

 

“What kind of story?”

 

“One that will have everyone talking for months, years even….Just let me run with this Bobby. Let me write it my way and how I want. I swear you won’t be disappointed.” Bobby’s features twisted up in thought, he sucked his teeth and clucked his tongue. Dean squirmed in his seat. Every moment he was in here was another moment wasted in the unraveling of Castiel Krushnik.

 

“Fine,” Dean smiled wide, “But it better be as good as you say it’s going to be.” Dean reached out, taking Bobby’s hand in a firm grip and shaking hard. Bobby grunted in pain and pulled his hand back.

 

“Thank you sir. You won’t regret this.”

 

“I hope not.”

 

Dean left Bobby’s office feeling way better than when he entered. Everything looked and smelled different. Like a new season was starting in his life. He whistled as he took his seat behind his desk, turned on his computer and pulled up Google. He had work to do.

 

“Winchester!” a new intern, Andy, walked up to him, handing him a stack of mail, most likely receipts or criticism from articles he went through before. He took the pile of letters and put them in the corner of his desk, he’d look through them later, “There’s this too. It came from the prison.” Dean’s eyes snapped to the letter in Andy’s hands. He yanked it away and looked at the handwriting on the front. He couldn’t tell whose it was. “You’re welcome.” Andy muttered, sulking away. Dean ripped the letter open and scanned the page before going back to read it thoroughly, his stomach churning with every sentence in anticipation. He couldn’t believe his luck.

 

_Dear Mr. Winchester,_

_Forgive me if I came off as shrewd when we met. Believe me it was not my intention at all. I feel much better discussing things on paper. I can think clearly. My family lives together in one of the larger estates on the other side of town. They go by the last name Novak. I have my mother’s maiden name. I give you permission to speak to them on my behalf if that is what you wish. Try and figure me out. Try to penetrate my defenses. I haven’t played a game like this in a while and I think it will be quite fun. So now that we’ve established a bit of trust I will tell you about my first murder. This stays between us until my death. No one should know the true circumstances of the first murder. It’s not even on my record. But you may place it there after my death. it won’t matter then._

_My boyfriend and I had been together for a while. He was a gentleman, very kind and very loving. It wasn’t until he moved into my apartment that things started to change. He became irritable, bitter and increasingly paranoid. When I was at work or on a case he called me constantly and nearly cost me my job. One night I came home exceedingly late and that was the first time he beat me up. I was not able to return to work for two days and he forbid me to go to the hospital. The beatings became more frequent after the first time and one night I snapped. I strangled him with the landline chord and you wouldn’t believe how good it felt. It was exhilarating and i was high on the power. He is the only one I did not skin and the only one no one but you and I and an old friend of mine know about. As for everyone else he’s still missing. But it was this you see, this first taste of destruction, that set me on my path. I became addicted to the feeling of overpowering another. I needed it and I succumbed to it once more. I do not feel sorry for those I killed, nor can you make me feel sorry._

_I hope you come see me again. I do, I liked you very much and even though you’re writing a story on me I feel we could be friends. I don’t have many of those. But I will warn you, don’t take my word for everything. Who's to say whether I’m being honest or not. Take care now Dean. Hope to see those pretty eyes again soon._

_Your Friend?_

_Castiel Krushnik M.D_

 

Dean took a shuddering breath adn read the letter twice. He could hear Castiel taunting him in his mind, holding out the cheese only to snatch it back once more. This is a game to him. He doesn’t take these murders seriously at all. Dean shook his head and turned back to his computer.

 

**Missing Persons in Lawrence Kansas**

 

-1-

 

She’s walking out to her car when I grab her. I threw the chloroform rag over her face, she struggled and went limp in my arms, my body sagging under the weight of her. I drag her to my car, throwing her in the backseat and cuffing her. She’ll be perfect. Flawless skin, pretty hair, great bone structure. I smile to myself.

  
“I do this for Castiel.”


End file.
